


You wear white (and I'll wear the words I love you)

by phichithamsters



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), First Dance, Fluff, Japanese wedding traditions, M/M, Married Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Mentions of Sex, Otabek's Two Moms (TM) make an appearance, Otabek's love for plants, Victuuri wedding planners, Weddings, Yuri's flair for the dramatic, a gratuitous amount of run-on sentences, but it's for the Art, otayuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 09:36:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19971892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phichithamsters/pseuds/phichithamsters
Summary: “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and husband!”The wedding guests cheered, and Victor threw his arms around Yuuri in delight, but all Otabek could see was Yuri, and all Yuri could see was Otabek, and all they could focus on was forever.--or, simply, Otabek and Yuri's wedding.





	You wear white (and I'll wear the words I love you)

**Author's Note:**

> For my friend Min, who is going through a tough time and could use a little sunshine.

The wedding was nothing like anyone expected, but leave it to Otabek and Yuri to shatter any and every expectation. That’s just who they were. 

Otabek wore a dark green suit, almost black, with a delicate gold trim that was only visible when the sun hit just right (which it did, multiple times, because Otabek had insisted on an outdoor wedding, and Yuri was more than happy to oblige). Yuri wore a white collared shirt with ruffles down the front, as well as a pair of tight white slacks because he liked attention. Half of his hair fell in front of his face and the other half was pulled back into a braid held in place by light blue barrettes and baby’s breath. Otabek had a matching white tulip pinned to his tux like a boutonniere, and when he pinned it on he felt like he was a teenager going to prom: nervous, expectant, electric.

On Yuri’s left finger there was already a ring, a delicate silver band that split in the center with raised silver running along the length of the ring. There was a small diamond that was offset to the left of center, and it was delicate and beautiful and just a little dramatic— just like Yuri. That hand held a small bouquet of light blue and white flowers, and the other was held by his grandfather as they stood at the end of the aisle.

Yuuri and Victor stood beside the altar, Victor playing the violin as Yuri processed. The violin was one of the many instruments Victor had picked up after his retirement from the skating world, and the minute Yuri told him about his engagement Victor had insisted on playing the music, even before he and Otabek had chosen a date. Yuuri was also a part of the ceremony, offering to officiate the wedding in Japan, and Yuri and Otabek had reluctantly agreed because, well, they really didn’t have many other friends. 

Yuuri had generously offered his family’s hot spring as the location of the wedding. The ceremony took place in the Katsuki’s backyard, beneath cherry blossom trees and heated by the steaming pools of water just next door. After alternating between Almaty and St. Petersburg for a few years, the Yuri and Otabek eventually moved back to Moscow to take care of Yuri’s grandfather; however, neither Russia nor Kazakhstan recognized marriage between two men, so they accepted Yuuri’s proposal and flew their small party of family and friends to Yuuri’s home in Hasetsu for the wedding. Victor and Yuuri, having been married a decade before, were incredibly helpful in all of the planning and arrangements that had to be made, even though Yuri would never admit it. They had also insisted on getting Yuri and Otabek a gift, and as much as Otabek had refused— trying to remind them that they had basically planned the entire wedding— it still sat on a table by the entrance, wrapped in glittering silver paper and addressed to “the happy couple” in Victor’s swooping handwriting.

Yuri refused to be handed off, so instead he kissed his grandfather on the cheek and Yakov and Lilya wheeled him to his seat in the first row. Yuri walked down the aisle alone, eyes locked on Otabek the entire time. He didn’t notice the rows of people watching as he walked by, he didn’t hear the music played on a solitary violin; all he saw was Otabek with his strong jaw and dark eyes that only Yuri could read after years of searching and asking the wrong questions. When he finally arrived at the altar it was all Yuri could do not to throw his arms around Otabek and press their lips together until he forgot everything except his own name.

“Friends and family, we are gathered here today…” Yuuri began, his face flushed and teary. Otabek reached out and took Yuri’s hands in his.

 _You look stunning,_ Otabek mouthed to Yuri.

 _I love you,_ Yuri responded.

“And now, the vows?” Yuuri asked, looking between the two of them. Both men had wanted a short ceremony, without poems or quotes or readings or other words that weren’t their own. Otabek nodded, pulling out a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and unfolding it. Yuri could see his neat, compact letters filling the page and he tried his best not to get lost in Otabek’s eyes while he read.

“Yura,” he began with a small but warm smile, using his favorite nickname to address the man he had fallen so helplessly in love with. 

“I spent most of my life chasing you. From when I met you, to five years later when I asked to be your friend, to most of my twenties—” (he said this and Yuri laughed a bright, knowing laugh) “ —I spent my life yearning to be closer to you. It seemed like you were always further away then I wanted and I couldn’t understand why until I held you in my arms for the first time, and it all made sense.” 

Otabek paused, setting his jaw to steady his voice which was beginning to shake.

“From the moment I met you, you ignited something inside of me, something that pushed me to be better. Not just as a skater but as a person, a best friend, a boyfriend, and now a husband. You broke me down in the best way possible because you refused to leave even when I made mistakes or I wasn’t myself. I thought leaving skating was the scariest thing I would ever have to do, but now I realize that loving you is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done... But at the same time, it’s the most _rewarding_ thing I have ever had the pleasure of doing. So, Yura, if you’ll have me, I want to hold you forever.”

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but Yuri clenched his jaw and squeezed Otabek’s hands in a way that told him that he wanted to cry but didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his friends and family. He took a deep breath and thought back to the first time Otabek had asked him for forever.

They had gone out for a walk in a small park in Moscow, one that ran alongside the Moskva river. Fall was in full force and the leaves were fiery shades of red, orange, gold, and brown. Despite the icy wind, Yuri had refused yet again, to wear a jacket and instead was wrapped in Otabek’s leather jacket (which Otabek knew was going to happen and had prepared for by wearing a sweater underneath). When Yuri stopped to point and laugh at the ducks trying to cross the river, Otabek was so captivated by the way the light danced off the strands of Yuri’s hair, and how he pulled his scarf over his mouth to hide from the wind, and he saw so much _forever_ in Yuri that he dropped to his knee and proposed on the spot. 

They had been talking about marriage for the past year, because Yuri was 29 and had retired from skating a year before Viktor had left the ice back when he turned 30, which pissed Yuri off to no end. Otabek knew Yuri was scared to turn 30 and even more terrified of leaving ice skating behind him, but Yuri’s body didn’t move the way it did a decade before and the stress of 20 years of falling on hard ice was beginning to take a toll on his bones. It had gotten to the point where each misstep had the potential to be his last, so instead of blowing out his knee in front of the entire world Yuri had swallowed his pride and retired quietly. Otabek had retired earlier, when he turned 26, with an Olympic gold medal and two Grand Prix Championships. That last season was the year that he had asked Yuri to be something more, after years of friendship and skype calls and heartbreak and other people that didn’t taste as good as him. Otabek bought the ring a month after they started dating.

Because Yuri was wearing his leather jacket, Otabek had to awkwardly slip the box from an inside pocket while it was still perched on Yuri’s shoulders, but Yuri was in shock so he didn’t notice; instead Yuri teared up and pulled Otabek in for a kiss without words. The two practically ran home, drunk on anticipation and excitement and cold air in their lungs, and they fucked on the living room couch because they were too impatient, and only after they had collapsed on top of each other, sweat pooling on Yuri’s chest did he finally remember to answer the question.

“Someone once said that I was fire and you were ice, but I hate that comparison. I think that I’m fire and you are the air in my lungs that keeps me burning.”

Yuri’s voice caught in his throat as he began his vows, but he kept speaking because it was important. 

“Sometimes, I burn too bright. I am fiery, and passionate, and I don’t let things go, _ever_ , and for the longest time I thought that was my biggest weakness. When you came into my life, you showed me that fire could be a beautiful thing if I learned how to just… calm down.”

Yuri smiled and wiped his nose, small teardrops blurring his vision. He held out his hand and Otabek pulled Yuri’s vows from inside his jacket pocket and handed them to him, flashing him a kind smile. Yuri noticed that tears welling in the corners of Otabek’s eyes, too. Otabek tried to blink them away.

“But, I also think analogies are dumb, so I prepared some actual vows too.”

Yuri could see Victor and Yuuri holding on to each other, silently weeping as they gazed proudly upon the two men. Yuri sighed and rolled his eyes.

“And Vitya, so help me god, if you keep looking at me like that, you’re banned from the rest of my wedding.”

Victor squeaked and hid behind Yuuri. The last thing he wanted to do was miss Yuri’s special day— Yuri, who Victor still saw as a 15 year old kid: small, lost, and angry at the world.

Yuri took a deep breath and focused back on the piece of paper in front of him, trying to decipher his own handwriting because his hands were shaking and he had suddenly forgotten how to read. A few moments of panic went by before Otabek gently placed his hands on Yuri’s wrists, steadying them with one tiny gesture. Yuri looked into Otabek’s eyes and felt his feet return to the ground beneath him.

“Okay, so… um, Beka, I love the little things you do for me. Like, how you used to make me breakfast the morning after every competition, no matter where in the world we were,” Yuri began, his voice growing steadier and more confident as he read. 

“Or the way you know how to make me feel better, whether that’s with a hug, or some time alone, or even if I need to talk things out, you always seem to know what I need before I do. And that has saved me so many times, Beka, I couldn’t even begin to count.

“Not only that, but you have stood by me, for so long,” Yuri’s voice dropped so low it was almost a whisper. “I… I have made a lot of mistakes, but I’m also not the person I was when we first met. And that’s because of you. You stayed by my side when so many others didn’t. You showed me that I was worthy of love, and safety, and happiness, and I don’t know how to thank you. All I can do is love you with every fiber of my being and hope and pray that I make you feel even a fraction of the way you make me feel. I think that would be enough.” 

Yuri cleared his throat.

“Lastly, I think I would be doing a disservice to our relationship if I didn’t mention ice skating once, so here it is: I fell in love with you on the ice. I skated for the better part of two decades and I learned so much, like patience, perseverance, humility, passion, drive, loyalty, determination, even unconditional love… but my favorite thing I have ever found on the ice is you, Otabek Altin. I love you so much.”

Yuri looked over at Yuuri, who was still crying. Yuuri pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose loudly before speaking.

“That was beautiful… both of you,” he readjusted his glasses and looked down at his notes. “Um, Victor, do you have the rings?”

Otabek smiled at Yuri and took his hands again, giving them a reassuring squeeze. Yuri lifted their interlocked hands and laid a kiss on them, making Otabek blush. 

Victor nodded, taking a step forward, and produced two plush velvet boxes. Yuuri took them from Victor with a smile and handed one box to Yuri and one to Otabek. They took out the contents of the boxes, two magnificent, plain silver bands, and handed the boxes back to Victor wordlessly. With the rings in hand, Yuuri started to speak.

“Otabek Altin and Yuri Plisetsky, please repeat after me,” Yuuri said.

“I am his—”

“I am his,” Otabek and Yuri repeated. 

“And he is mine—”

“And he is mine.”

“From this day—”

“From this day,” Otabek said, slipping the ring onto Yuri’s finger.

“From this day,” Yuri repeated, placing his ring onto Otabek’s.

“Until the end of my days,” Yuuri concluded.

“Until the end of my days.”

Yuuri looked between the two of them and smiled so wide it could’ve outshined the sun.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and husband!”

The wedding guests cheered, and Victor threw his arms around Yuuri in delight, but all Otabek could see was Yuri, and all Yuri could see was Otabek, and all they could focus on was forever.

Yuri faintly heard Yuuri say _you may now kiss the groom_ but Otabek already had one hand on Yuri’s face and the other on his back. Otabek was leaning forward to kiss him and pushing him backwards, and Yuri was throwing his arms around Otabek to catch himself. Yuri could feel Otabek’s ring on his cheek and it was cold and it made him inexplicably happy, like he was going to float away but then Otabek was there, holding Yuri and kissing Yuri with a smile on his face, and Otabek was his, Otabek was all his.

— 

Otabek and Yuri walked up the aisle with wide smiles, hands clasped and held over their heads in triumph, because there was no other way to explain how it felt to marry your best friend other than winning some game of incredible luck. Someone threw petals and they rained down from the sky, swept up and swirling in the wind, and it was like every movie they had watched and mocked, because it seemed too beautiful to be true. 

Yuuri had suggested that Otabek and Yuri have a moment alone before the reception, to spend their first moments together as newlyweds as well grab something to eat. Victor lamented that he and Yuuri had made the mistake to go straight to the reception, leaving them starved for food and each other by the end of the night, so, heeding their advice, Otabek and Yuri piled into their car before and peeled away before anyone could stop to congratulate them. 

Their first stop was a parking lot, where the two men (still wearing their suits) made out in the front seat like a couple of teenagers out past curfew. Otabek’s hands threaded in Yuri’s hair pulled him tightly against his chest, trying to, _needing to_ be closer, even though the space between them didn’t exist, hadn’t existed for years. Yuri braced one hand against the headrest of the driver’s seat and tried not to brush the horn. Their lips were warm and wet and desperate; an outpouring of everything that they had wanted to do during the ceremony in the front seat of Otabek’s car. Otabek forgot how to breathe so he lived off of Yuri.

Eventually, Yuri pulled away, panting.

“Hey, husband,” he whispered. Otabek just stared back with starry eyes and a grin wide across his face. He didn’t know it was possible to love someone so much that it hurt, but when the muscles in his face started to ache from smiling, he began to understand.

Their next stop was a soba cart on the side of the road. Otabek and Yuri were overdressed and they stood out starkly from the rest of the patrons who were tried not to stare. The couple didn’t care in the slightest; Yuri was drunk off of Otabek’s lips and Otabek was high off of Yuri’s fingertips and they laughed as they slurped their noodles noisily. Otabek had splashed some broth on his cheek in his cheerfulness so Yuri licked his thumb and used it to wipe off Otabek’s face, which made the two of them burst out laughing again. 

When they left, Yuri tried to tip the owner as a way of apologizing for bothering the other customers, but she simply slid the envelope back to them and congratulated them on their marriage with a warm smile.

— 

The reception, unlike the wedding ceremony itself, was large and extravagant and mostly for the guests. It was held in a small ballroom used for public events in Hasetsu, and featured one long table in a horseshoe shape that occupied most of the space. Victor and Yuuri had outdone themselves with the decor; they had consulted Otabek and Yuri at the beginning of the planning process, to gauge their ideas for color schemes and themes, but after that the pair had taken the reigns. Otabek was pleasantly surprised when he and Yuri arrived (presented by Victor over the loudspeaker with a flourish: “It is my pleasure to announce, for the first time as newlyweds, Mr. and Mr. Altin-Plisetsky!” because Victor had said an introduction was _important_ ) and entered holding hands just like they had left their ceremony. 

The room was decorated in a clever combination of Yuri’s flair for the dramatic and Otabek’s love of plants, two seemingly inconsolable tastes which the newlyweds had decided were their two “must-haves” to make their wedding feel like _theirs._ Victor and Yuuri’s work was nothing short of a minor miracle, since their planning mostly consisted of having to navigate Otabek and Yuri’s abysmal communication, paralyzing indecision, and general stubbornness.

The table was draped in a thick, white tablecloth with a light brown runner that accented the walls and the live plants that Yuuri had cultivated for the event. The centerpieces weren’t extravagant bouquets, but instead featured ferns, hoyas, sansevierias, and palms in exquisite shades of green; they mirrored the ones Otabek grew in his and Yuri’s apartment. All were accented with white baby’s breath, sprinkled like stars against the stark green flora and accenting the speckles in Yuri’s hair. The place settings were a spectrum of shades of tan— not boring, just _sophisticated._ Victor and Yuuri had strung up multicolored lights that swung from the exposed beams of the ceiling, and they had even gone so far as to wrap up gifts for their guests in little burlap sacks, accented with gold ribbon and a small card that read, _from the Altin-Plisetskys_.

One look at the room and Otabek realized that he could send Victor and Yuuri on an all-expenses paid second honeymoon and it still wouldn’t be enough to say thank you. He was going to do it anyways, though. 

Once the cheers died down, Otabek and Yuri took their seats at the head of a long table. The family of the grooms sat at the far end, opposite of Otabek and Yuri, as was the custom in Japanese weddings. Yuuri and Victor also sat at the end of the table, leaving Otabek and Yuri to receive doting compliments from former coaches and teammates, friends, employers, old sponsors, and anyone else who was able to travel across the world to celebrate the two men. Otabek and Yuri sipped champagne, smiled for photos, and held hands under the table into the late hours of the night. 

The booze flowed, light and sparkly, into wide smiles and crystal stems. Otabek and Yuri both tried their best not to get drunk off of the combination of a little food and a lot of alcohol, but some things were just inevitable. There was soft music in the background, but as per Japanese tradition there was no dancing following the evening. Yuri was initially disappointed when he had learned that First Dances were not a common practice in the country, but he had come to terms with it when he reminded himself that Japan was generously hosting him and his husband after their respective countries vehemently denied their marriage. So, he compromised.

Eventually, the evening died down and guests were trickling out into the cool, clear night. Otabek and Yuri had rented the ballroom for two days, a pragmatic decision that ensured they didn’t have to clean up the same night as their celebration. Finally, after Otabek’s mothers and Yuri’s grandfather and the Victor-Yuuri double duo had kissed the new couple goodbye, it was time for Otabek and Yuri to head to a hotel. They planned to spend the night in a suite before boarding a flight the next morning to Iceland, where the two had chosen to spend their honeymoon. Yuri had wanted to go to Morocco, and Otabek had wanted a cabin in the deep woods of the Arctic, so they decided on Reykjavík. It made sense to them.

Yuri leaned his head sleepily on Otabek’s shoulder. Otabek had taken off his jacket sometime over the course of the evening, so he was currently sporting a clean white button up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to expose his forearms. Yuri had a sudden urge to kiss them. 

“Ready to go?” he asked instead. 

Otabek kissed the top of Yuri’s head before standing up and helping his tired husband to his feet. 

“Victor and Yuuri did a great job,” he said absentmindedly, looking around the ballroom as if to imprint the image behind his eyelids. Otabek was never one to be sentimental, but this was probably as close as he would get to seeing his dreams come true.

Yuri wrapped his arms around Otabek and joined him in looking over the remains of their celebration: crumpled fabric napkins scattered across the tablecloth, empty place card holders, centerpieces askew and wilting, all basking in the soft glow of the hanging lights. The catering staff bustled in and out of an adjacent room, clearing the remaining plates off of the table, the clank of silverware sounding the end of the night.

“We have one more stop before we go back to the hotel,” Otabek said, a sudden glint of mischief in his eye.

“Beka, what the _hell_ are you planning?” Yuri rolled his eyes, but even still, he couldn’t help but smile. He was no stranger to Otabek’s surprises; what the man lacked in words, he made up for in grand gestures. Otabek held out his arm and Yuri took it, sliding his arm through the crook of Otabek’s elbow, and allowed himself to be led away by his devious, scheming, _perfect_ husband.

—

“I know this is a surprise and all, but was the blindfold really necessary?” Yuri asked as the car rolled to a stop. He heard Otabek turn off the car and Yuri could just imagine the smirk he was wearing. 

“Absolutely,” Otabek replied, his voice giving away nothing. Yuri heard him get out of the car, heard the back door open and a rustle of bags, and then he was being helped out of the car. Yuri felt the cool night air gently caress his face, but the silky blindfold over his eyes was tight enough so that he was completely helpless, the sound of Otabek’s voice being the only thing keeping him anchored to the Earth. And because this wasn’t the first time that Otabek was the gravity he relied on, Yuri didn’t mind one bit.

Otabek led Yuri up a flight of stairs and into a building that smelled familiar, and through a set of doors, and Yuri _swore_ that he’d heard that squeak of hinges before. Otabek’s hand was steady on his back the entire time.

“Yura? I’m here. I’m going to take off the blindfold now.”

Yuri could hear the smile on Otabek’s lips as he spoke, his voice soft and rich. He felt Otabek’s hands skillfully untie the blindfold, and light flooded Yuri’s senses, and all at once he realized why everything about the place felt _oh_ _so_ familiar.

They were standing inside Ice Castle, the ice rink in Hasetsu that Yuri had followed Victor to all those years ago. All the memories came flooding back in an instant, but the rink looked different than it did almost two decades ago, when Yuri had been broken and rebuilt to the tune of _Agape._ The room was dimly lit, with tiny Christmas lights twinkling on the banisters and walls with a soft yellow glow. There were white roses scattered around the perimeter of the rink, an homage to the flowers Yuri wore in his hair. Yuri could hear soft, smooth jazz playing from somewhere around them; the same music Yuri would play while he made dinner, the same music he would listen to as he lay his head on Otabek’s chest as they made slow circles in their living room. 

Yuri spotted Victor and Yuuri in a corner of the rink, and he realized how stunned he must have looked because they were laughing to themselves. They waved at Yuri before exiting through a back door, allowing the newlyweds a moment of privacy.

“Surprise, love,” Otabek’s arms wrapped around Yuri from behind as he whispered in Yuri’s ear.

“I can’t believe you… You did all this?” Yuri tried to hold back his tears, but the waver in his voice gave him away.

“With the help of Yuuri and Victor,” Otabek’s words were soft, loving. “I know that you were disappointed that we didn’t get to have a first dance at our reception, so I decided to give you one.”

“I don’t— I don’t have my skates,” Yuri said dumbly; he was too shocked to think of anything else.

Otabek untangled himself from Yuri and gestured to a wrapped box sitting on a bench behind them. 

“Give me a little credit, Yura.”

Yuri opened the gift. Inside, he found two pairs of skates wrapped in delicate paper that crinkled when Yuri ran his fingers over the shoe's clean, white leather. The heels were a rich brown color, and Yuri realized he had never seen anything like them before. He picked one up, admiring the embroidery stitched into the heels. There was even a matching pair for Otabek— a perfect set of his and his skates. 

“These were a present from Victor and Yuuri,” Otabek said from behind him. Yuri picked up the tested the weight in his hands, marveling at their quality, wondering where Yuuri and Victor could have found something so beautiful. The guards were still on so he removed them to admire the sharp sweep of the blades, bright and lustrous and untouched by the years on the ice.

“They’re incredible,” he whispered, eyes wide.

Otabek reached under the bench, conjuring up a duffle bag. Yuri must have missed it, earlier, when he was in the car and pressed up against Otabek’s lips.

“They are beautiful, but they look really stiff,” Otabek said, digging around in the bag. He pulled out two pairs of well-worn skates, as well as a few mismatched figure skating gloves.

“So I brought ours too.”

“I can’t believe you,” Yuri repeated, a smile dancing on lips. “You’re perfect. I love you.”

“I love you too, Yura.”

They quickly laced up their skates: the old, beaten ones that smelled a little bad because they hadn’t bothered to wash them since they stopped competing. Otabek and Yuri still skated on a regular basis, but it was slower, less urgent these days. They would drive to their local ice rink right before closing (because they had a long-standing agreement with the owner) and step onto the ice when the crowds had cleared out for the day. 

They would skate lazy circles around the rink, sometimes holding hands, sometimes in different directions. They tried out different moves they hadn’t been allowed to attempt during their competition years: pair lifts and spins and tricks that one had seen on a video and then excitedly showed the other. No matter how far they got from competing, the ice was a familiar place of respite for Otabek and Yuri. 

Sometimes, the ice was a comfortable place, a sanctuary, a place of worship where they could drop to their knees and pray. Other times, it was a place to cry, to scream, to let go, and they would tear into the ice with their blades until their fingers were cold and angry. The ice meant different things to the two of them, but it always remained a home.

That night, the ice became a future. Like many times that they skated, Otabek and Yuri could see their lives reflected in the spray of ice from their skates. But this time, they saw each other: they saw the future, _their_ future, full of love and laughter and _together_ all shining under the warm glow of string lights and rose petals.

They glided around the rink, hand and hand. They even fell once; Yuri came too close to Otabek and the blades of their skates caught. Otabek fell first, but brought Yuri with him as he toppled onto the ice. The ice stung their backs but they laughed anyway.

When the music shifted away from jazz and into an instrumental cover of their favorite song, Otabek took Yuri into his arms and they had their first dance on the ice _._

“I still can’t believe you did this for me,” Yuri whispered, his face buried in Otabek’s neck. Otabek held Yuri’s hand over his own heart as they swayed.

“Yura,” he said, his lips brushing over Yuri’s ear. “I could do _this_ a million times, and it wouldn’t be enough. I could get down on my knee and propose to you every single day for the rest of my life, and it wouldn’t be enough. I could count every star in the sky and thank each one of them for bringing you to me, and it wouldn’t be enough.”

So Yuri kissed him fiercely and passionately, and tried his best to show Otabek how _enough_ he was.

Eventually, the night succumbed to the early hours of the morning, the time when the stars were playing symphonies and the rest of the world was quietly listening, and Yuri couldn’t keep from closing his eyes, even the most beautiful man in the world was standing in front of him. They packed up their skates and gloves, and walked back to their car, fingers and hands tangled together so tightly that it would be impossible for anyone to untie them. 

As they drove to their hotel room, Yuri pressed his head against the window so he could gaze at the night sky. He counted every single star he could see, and tried to thank each one of them for bringing Otabek to him.

**Author's Note:**

> This idea (literally) came to me in a dream. This is one of my favorite stories I've ever written and I just want to wrap myself up in otayuri love until the day I die. Thank you for reading, as always, and thank you for loving Otabek and Yuri and the rest of these beautiful characters as much as I do.
> 
> I didn't create a moodboard for this fic, but I was pretty damn close. Here's a collection of all of the inspiration I found for this fic:  
> -Yuri's [shirt](https://us.asos.com/asos-design/asos-design-regular-fit-jacquard-shirt-with-ruffle-front/prd/11796446?channelref=product+search&mk=abc&currencyid=2&ppcadref=753857711%7C53430038290%7Cpla-759868264068%26browseCountry%3DUS&affid=14174&channelref=product+search&mk=abc&ppcadref=753857711%7C53430038290%7Cpla-759868264068&_cclid=Google_EAIaIQobChMIoqmFr-j64gIVyF6GCh2PigiVEAQYAiABEgJnRvD_BwE&gclid=EAIaIQobChMIoqmFr-j64gIVyF6GCh2PigiVEAQYAiABEgJnRvD_BwE)  
> -Yuri's [engagement ring](https://www.caratlane.com/jewellery/jack-ring-for-men-jr03673-ptp900.html)  
> -Reception/ballroom [decor](https://unsplash.com/photos/Fw6nOTesO4c)  
> -Otabek and Yuri's first dance music: [The Way I Am](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vh74KE3o4Bs) (Ingrid Michaelson)  
> -Jazz music playing during the skating scene: [Fly Me to The Moon](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZEcqHA7dbwM) (Frank Sinatra)  
>   
> Lastly, some fun lil notes:  
> -There is a "The Office" reference in there; bonus points if you caught it  
> -I did use the vows from Game of Thrones, mostly because they are lovely and one day I'll use them at my wedding  
> -The title of this fic comes from the song Marry Me by Train :)  
> -I smiled the whole time I wrote this, and I hope you enjoy this too!  
> -Say hi on twitter [@phichithamsters!](https://twitter.com/phichithamsters)


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